


Repercussions

by Elayna



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:41:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9256133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elayna/pseuds/Elayna
Summary: Rodney reacts to John not following containment protocols.  Spoilers for the episode "Hot Zone."





	

**Author's Note:**

> A very long time ago, a friend made an interesting post that had me dwelling on the aftermath of "Hot Zone" and writing 2/3rds of this fic. I wasn't comfortable with whether it worked for the characters and put it aside. I rewatched "Hot Zone" recently and decided to finally finish it. It is what it is, as dubious and gritty as it may be.

The shower was burning hot and wonderful, soaking the fear and cold from his body. Detonating a naquadah generator in the air, setting off a nuclear explosion to create an EMP pulse to destroy nanites had been…really not fun, in John's opinion, despite the fact that it gave him ample justification to fly as fast as he had ever wanted. Adrenaline had carried him through, the knowledge that lives were at stake and there were no other options, but then the release when it worked had left him cold and shaking, thinking of nothing but the possible mistakes, all the details that he could have messed up. If he'd released the generator too soon or too close, not flown fast enough… he could have killed himself or everyone on Atlantis. 

They'd skated out of that terror by the skin of their teeth, and the only thing John could appreciate right now was that at least Atlantis had an ample supply of hot water. Not like Afghanistan, where he'd escaped with his life but his best friends had died, and there had been nothing to warm him, not even a long shower, water too rationed for that indulgence. 

The bathroom was fogged with steam by the time he stepped out, drying off and wrapping a towel around his waist while he ruffled another towel through his hair to remove the moisture. He should get dressed, he supposed, and check on people, give them all his lazy smile to boost morale, but his very bones ached with his tiredness and he desperately wanted to take a nap. Did he need to show everyone all was fine with the world or could he give himself a break tonight? 

He heard the bedroom door open, and draped the towel in his hands over his shoulders, peering out to see Rodney in his room. "Hey," he said, stepping out, not worried about offending Rodney with his partial nudity. 

"Major," Rodney said, and John could see the tenseness in his body, how his shoulders were held tightly, his mouth a hard line slanting down. 

"Rodney. You okay?" 

And Rodney's hand swung out, his palm connecting with John's face, slapping him hard. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" 

John saw the blow coming but couldn't react in time to duck, because hell, it was Rodney. Rodney didn't hit people. Rodney couldn't hit a Wraith, much less one of his own. But after living hours with the conviction that he was going to die from an eruption in his brain, Rodney clearly had adrenaline issues that surpassed John's. "What the hell is your problem?" he asked, rubbing his face. 

"My problem? My problem?" Rodney raised his hand again, but this time John caught it. Sure, he could understand adrenaline, but one slap was enough. 

"I'm okay, can't you see that? I outflew the explosion. I'm fine. You're fine. Ford and Zelenka and everyone else are fine. The nanites are dead." 

"You think this is about the explosion?" Rodney jerked his arm out of John's hand, pacing the bedroom. His walk was tight and controlled, but had that edgy attitude of someone who wants to break out in a run. "About the nanites? You don't get it at all, do you?"

"Apparently not, so why don't you explain it to me." 

"You broke containment. You ordered Bates to disobey a direct order from Elizabeth to let you out. What were you thinking?" 

Oh crap, not this again. "Look, Elizabeth and I have already talked about this, okay?"

"Yes, she told me. She also said – well, that doesn't matter. You just can't do things like that. You can't overrule Elizabeth on decisions and you can't break containment." 

John was pretty sure Rodney had been about to give Elizabeth's opinion of whether or not he'd been properly repentant, which was undoubtedly not enough. He'd never been good at accepting reprimands. His father had been too fond of handing them out. "Rodney, I was stuck in a workout room with Teyla, where I couldn't do anything to help."

Rodney's hands flailed wildly in the air as his voice rose. "Couldn't do anything to help? You helped the virus spread! Not exactly the most productive use of your time, was it?" 

Being chastised was beginning to grate on John, though he tried to the edge from his voice. "I didn't know that would happen. That was a bad coincidence." 

"At least Petersen had the excuse of being scared out of his mind, not bored!" 

"Is that what you think? That I made Bates let us out because I was bored?" 

"Didn't you?"

"I made Bates let us out because we couldn't do anything where we were. We were trapped and useless," John explained, still trying to keep his patience. 

"Yes, that's what you're supposed to be when you're contained," Rodney snapped. "Damnit, John, scientific protocols are established for good reasons. Do you think we wanted to stay in that lab waiting to see who would die next?"

"Rodney, look – "

"No!" Rodney waved a finger in front of John's face. "No pacifying excuses. Why do you think you know best? Because you're a pilot? An American? What will it take to get through to you?" 

"Rodney, I'm in charge of the military. I have to – "

"You are still arguing! You will keep arguing forever, won't you? You are not always right!" 

Which was actually kinda funny, coming from Rodney of all people, the king of believing that he was absolutely correct in every instance. Without thinking that he might appear provocative, John let a smirk cross his face. 

"You – " Rodney's face was almost stoplight red with anger. "You are not perfect or invincible or invulnerable." He grabbed at the towel around John's waist, ripping it away and flinging it across the room, leaving him standing naked. 

Surprise paralyzed John. If he'd been facing an enemy soldier, John would have punched him, but this was Rodney. Overconfident to hide his insecurity, brilliant, highly-strung Rodney, who was currently manhandling him across the room and shoving him on the bed. Rodney of the surprisingly strong arms and shoulders. 

John flailed as he hit the bed, conscious of the soft Athosian quilt against his bare skin. 

"Not invincible, not invulnerable, and not always right," Rodney was chanting, and John twisted his head to see him undoing his trousers, pushing his clothes down his hips. He hadn't seen this behavior often, but he'd seen it. Given his years in the military, how could he not? Civilized men, driven to extremes, could do bad things, unspeakable acts. No one was immune to battle hysteria. The thing was – how to react? He could stop Rodney, though possibly not without hurting him. Lash out with his foot, giving him one sharp kick in his soft stomach, knocking the breath out of him and him to the floor…but would that knock sense in him, or would he get up and pounce? How messy would this get?

John sidled sideways a bit as he considered the situation, trying to get more onto the bed so he'd have better balance to act. Rodney must have interpreted his action as an attempt to escape. He fell on John, pinning him down with his weight. His hands squirmed against John's naked skin as he finished opening his pants. 

And then he heard a noise, the sound of Rodney spitting in his hand, and felt the sensation of lubricated fingers shoving into his hole. John made his choice, consciously willing every muscle to relax. This would be easier if he didn't resist, if he went along for the ride. Rodney would get it out of his system without John having to break any of his bones. 

Shifting a little bit was difficult under Rodney's solid mass, but John got his dick adjusted, pointing up, the underside rubbing on the blanket.

Rodney's fingers were working him, loosening him, and John breathed deep in his belly to calm himself. He could smell the underlying hint of fear and desperation in Rodney's sweat, but mostly the scent in the room was musk and sex, the best fragrance he knew.

More spitting and oh thank god above all things that Rodney was a rational man even now, and at least somewhat skilled in anal sex – heterosexual or homosexual, John wondered, some women did like it – because his dick also was lubricated as it barreled into John, thick and round and long. He'd seen glimpses of it, of course, tromping on alien worlds and both of them needing to take a leak in a galaxy that had never invented porta-potties, but a glimpse was nothing compared to the reality of the stiffness plunging into him, slapping on his prostate with every thrust. 

And oh… he shouldn't be enjoying this, shouldn't be enjoying that Rodney was totally freaking out, uncharacteristically reacting in the most primitive way possible, but he was. He'd spent hours walking through Atlantis in a bulky, heavy hazmat suit, sweaty and uncomfortable, before flying off in a jumper to create a nuclear explosion. And now Rodney…Rodney was so fucking alive, his breath hot in John's ear, his hands wrapped around John's arms, squeezing strongly. John's skin wasn't particularly delicate, but he wouldn't be surprised if Rodney's grip left bruises. Rodney's clothes were scraping on John's naked skin, the cotton bunching in different places as it rubbed, the texture more natural and real than the plastic hazmat suit. Best of all, Rodney's cock was driving in him, the spit giving some lubrication, but not enough, not enough to stop John feeling the pleasurable burn of being stretched and filled with every thrust. John went with it, moving his hips with Rodney's thrusts, the soft quilt fabric rubbing deliciously on his dick, getting slick with his own wetness. Rodney's breath got hoarser, his hands giving a last hard squeeze on John's arms as he orgasmed, his come filling John's ass. Sliding a hand down, John gave himself a few swift tugs, feeling his ass clench on Rodney's dick as he came too. 

Both of them collapsed on the bed, Rodney's weight heavy on John, who felt utterly exhausted and relaxed from the pleasurable release. 

Rodney pulled out of John and off him, thumping to the ground by the bed. "Oh…Christ, John. Christ, I'm sorry." Rodney touched his back lightly, and John knew he was staring at his handiwork, John's body spread eagled on the bed, come dripping from his ass. "I'm so sorry," Rodney repeated, scrambling up from the floor. 

John could hear him retching in the bathroom. He didn't want to move because…wow, that had been one hell of an orgasm, and he could fall asleep now, but he dragged himself up. He should have predicted that Rodney would react badly. Maybe he should have kicked him and let him get his anger out with a good brawl. 

He took the time to pull on a pair of sweats, then went to lean on the doorframe, looking into the bathroom, watching Rodney gargle and spit. "You okay?"

Rodney looked at him a bit wildly. "Tell me that you did not just say that." 

"I just asked if you were okay."

"If I was okay? If I – " Rodney bent over, resting his head on the edge of the sink, taking slow breaths as if he was trying to stop himself from hyperventilating. Speaking surprisingly clearly from his hunched over position, he said, "A rape victim is not supposed to inquire about the health of his rapist." He stood up, not quite looking at John. "How are you? How badly did I hurt you? You need to see Carson." He skirted past John, careful not to touch him, and started for the door, working on getting his clothes back in place as he walked. 

"Stop this. Rodney, stop this." John came up behind Rodney, wrapped his arms around Rodney's body, as Rodney was still fumbling with his fly. "I'm not going to Carson, okay? I don't need a doctor." 

"Look, just because you're not bleeding doesn't mean there wasn't damage. Tearing, bruising. Carson needs to examine you." Rodney struggled to get his belt buckled, hampered by John's arms around his. "He needs to make sure you're okay."

"No, he doesn't. I know you think of me as a lightweight flyboy, but don't delude yourself that you would ever be capable of raping me, okay? Trust me on this."

"I don't think of you as lightweight," Rodney protested. "Reckless and irresponsible definitely, but not lightweight. And I held you down and forced myself on you, I don't see how you can say it wasn't rape." 

"Rodney …" With a swift movement, John brought his arms up and under Rodney's arms, yanking Rodney's shoulders back, locking his fingers together behind Rodney's head. "Try to fight me." 

"Don't be ridiculous." 

"Try to fight me." 

"I'm not going to fight you. You're trained – "

"Yes?" John prompted, when Rodney stopped talking. 

"Trained in hand to hand combat," Rodney said sullenly. 

"And you're not, are you? Your only experience is what Ford and Teyla and I taught you." 

"I held you down." 

"You had your hand on my back. You didn't have control of my arms or my feet. So can you stop with feeling guilty about rape? 'Cuz believe me, if I hadn't heard you spitting, you would have found your ass on the floor." He loosened his arms, relieved that he could feel Rodney's muscles relax as he surrendered to John's view of the encounter. "I didn't have a problem with you holding me down and fucking me hard." 

"You don't have a problem with sexual violence?"

"Look, I wanted you, okay? I wanted you since I first saw you at McMurdo, waiting for me to fly you out to what I thought was a research base where you were building a secret WMD. And today I was afraid to try to stop you in case I hurt you. So it's all okay, okay? Don't worry about it." 

"I’m sorry? Did you just apologize for letting me ra- hold you down and fuck you really hard?"

"Yeah. I should have stopped you. I should have known you'd freak out and feel guilty. But I just wanted to feel it. Just wanted to know what it was like." 

Rodney laughed, an odd harsh sound. "I can't believe you. You're absurd, you know that?"

"Is that better or worse than reckless and irresponsible?" 

"Different." Rodney sank down to his knees, burying his hands in his face, and John kneeled next to him, pulling Rodney into an embrace, resting his cheek on the top of Rodney's head. He hadn't lied, he'd wanted Rodney since he'd met him. Finally being able to hold him felt good, Rodney's body so solid and warm in his arms. 

"I'm clean," Rodney said finally. "In case you wondered later."

"I figured you would be. Medical testing before we left and Carson's regular blood draws." 

"You're really quite calm about this." 

"I've been in combat since I got out of college, Rodney. I've seen people do plenty of fucked up shit in bad situations. Knowing you're going on a trip that might be one-way and then ending up in a war zone are too very different things. No one was prepared as much as we should have been."

John felt Rodney tense again and dropped his arms to his sides as they both sat back, still on their knees, looking at each other. Rodney's expression was worried as he asked, "Nothing's happened, has it? Nothing I should know about?"

"No. I keep pretty close track on my men." Most of the Marines had been on Gate teams and were excellently trained. They were men who knew that the universe was a scary place with aliens who wanted to control the entire world, not naive young idiots who thought they were protecting democracy and couldn't understand why so many of the locals hated their guts. 

Rodney gave another of those bitter laughs. "It appears that the scientists are the ones who need watching." He rose, a little stiffly, stretching his back and shoulders for a moment, so John stood too. "And what about containment protocols?"

"I'll… try, okay? I will really, really try." 

John and Rodney looked at each other for a long moment, silently acknowledging that John may not succeed. Being proactive and protective was simply too much in his nature. Rodney didn't say anything more on the subject, perhaps realizing that John had at least been more sincere on the issue to Rodney than he had with Elizabeth. "Should we tell Eliz-"

"No, absolutely not," John interrupted. "This was between us and it's done." 

"Thank you," Rodney said quietly. "I think I shall return to my original thought for the evening and have a long bubble bath." 

"I had a hot shower myself." 

"Yes – " 

John could tell Rodney was blaming himself, thinking that John would need to wash off again, so he stepped forward, cupping Rodney's face in his hands, and gave him a very soft kiss. "Remember Rodney, I wanted you. I always have. You want to give – being together – a try, I'm up for it."

Rodney nodded, swallowed as if he might say something, and left, the Atlantean door sliding obediently open for him and shut after his departure. 

Well, that had not been the evening John expected, though considering all the stressful life and death situations they'd experienced, it wasn't too surprising. He took stock of his body, sweaty, relaxed from his orgasm, come still in his ass, which was going to be sore. Yeah, another hot shower, maybe not quite so long, and then definitely that leisurely stroll to check on his men and the scientists. 

Maybe give Rodney an hour or so and then drop by with a hot chocolate to see how he was doing. Or just wait and see him at breakfast? He'd play it by ear, that was one of his strengths. 

Shower first, then he'd share his lazy smile with everyone, letting them be reassured that the military commander thought all was right with the world. 

~ the end ~


End file.
